


Warts and All

by badgirlcarly



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Boys In Love, Crying, Domestic Discipline, Love, M/M, Men Crying, Paddling, Post-Canon, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgirlcarly/pseuds/badgirlcarly
Summary: Ray gets himself in trouble, and gets a two-part spanking because of it.Written for Spanking World's October Mini-Challenge.
Relationships: Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Warts and All

  
Ray came into the bedroom after letting Jimmy out for the night to find Walter under the covers, leaning back against the pillows and watching a ballgame. Basketball didn't particularly interest Ray, but there was something there that did. 

Walter chuckled as Ray climbed into his lap, face to face, Ray's knees bracketing Walter's hips. "In the mood for love?" 

Ray sucked at the pulse point in Walter's neck. "In the mood for _you_." 

Walter laughed. "Sweet talker." 

" _You're_ sweet," Ray mumbled against his mouth between kisses. 

"Why don't you go get ready for bed? We'll finish watching this game, and then I'll lay you down." 

Ray whined softly. "Don't wanna." 

"Don't be ornery." 

"I'm not being ornery," Ray grumbled. 

Walter rolled his eyes. "Go on. Keep talking back, and you'll get a swat." 

Ray looked at him from under his eyelashes. Walter's mouth went dry. 

"You would swat me," Ray asked softly, rocking gently in Walter's lap, "with me right here, looking the way I do?" 

Walter laughed. He pulled Ray down for a kiss, a good, hard one. He squeezed Ray's ass with both hands, didn't stop until Ray whined a little. 

"You're such a brat," Walter said, but he could hear the affection in his voice. 

Ray did, too, and smiled, looking awfully pleased with himself. That would have to be fixed. Walter flipped them, and then enjoyed Ray squirming beneath him. 

"I'm not a brat," Ray said mulishly. 

Walter grabbed Ray's wrists, pinned them down to the mattress. He held him still, and bit at his Adam's apple. 

"Yes, you are," Walter said, surprised to hear his own voice so rough so soon. "But you're my brat, and I love you crazy." 

He kissed him, and Ray kissed back. 

***

The next day, Walter was alone in his office doing paperwork when he heard a commotion break out in the station. His first thought—his very first thought—was, _Ray Levoi_. 

About ten seconds later, Ray burst through his door, tossing a drenched, muddy piece of cloth onto the chair in front of Walter's desk. He was wet and filthy; the cloth on the chair was his shirt, and he continued peeling off his clothes as he talked. 

"—this is complete bullshit! I had _no idea_ the cruisers were so low to the ground; I could've _drowned_ getting out of what was a dry creek bed _yesterday_ —" 

Walter got up and made sure the door was shut and locked, and then turned to look at Ray. He wasn't paying much attention, too wound up and too lost in getting his soiled clothes off. Walter walked back behind his desk. He opened the top drawer, and removed a thick, foot-long wooden ruler. Then he shut the drawer and waited for Ray to finish stripping, and to shut up. Once he had, Walter spoke. 

"Are you hurt?" 

"Huh?" 

"Are you hurt? Do I need to take you to the clinic?" 

Ray shook his head. "No." 

"All right. Let's review your morning," Walter said. "So, you weren't paying good attention while you were driving, and you forgot that it rained this weekend so the Little Walking'd be higher everywhere, and you got stuck in the water. Then, instead of calling for help, you decided to push the car back onto the road by yourself. Did you put it in neutral? You _could have_ drowned. You could have run yourself over! Were you able to drive the car back here?" 

Ray's cheeks had pinkened up quite a bit. "Yes."

"Well, that's something. At least you didn't kill the engine. It'll have to be cleaned, though; that smell's gonna gonna stay in the upholstery. Do you think you made good decisions today, Ray?" 

Ray squirmed. He lowered his eyes. "I mean… It wasn't—everything turned out okay—" 

"Except for you being a mess, and the car needing to be shampooed, and the fact that you put yourself in danger without a thought," Walter finished for him. "You're too smart not to know what's going to happen next." 

"Walter, please, not here—" 

Walter grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him over. In a second, he had Ray held tight under his arm, bent at the waist, his bare butt sticking out as a beautiful target for Walter's ruler. THWACK! He smacked the ruler down hard against Ray's naked backside, and Ray bucked and yelped, but Walter's hold was competent, and he didn't get anywhere. 

"Don't—" Ray begged. "Please—" 

It was too late. Walter had already begun spanking him in earnest. The ruler was small and light, which meant swats could be dealt out quickly, and Ray was locked in place under Walter's arm, barely able to move to avoid the assault. He was taking in dozens of swats a minute, each landing with a THWACK and leaving a pink stripe across his presented ass and thighs. It didn't take long until Ray was panting, little moans and yelps tearing from his throat. 

"You deserve a lot worse than this, and you'll be getting it when we get home," Walter said. "This is for the damage you did to the car. You need to look after that vehicle and treat it well, but more than that, you need to look after _yourself_. When we get home tonight, you're getting paddled for failing to do that." 

Ray whimpered, and then Walter heard him cry. 

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "I really didn't mean to be so careless."

Walter sighed. "I know you didn't. But you _were_ , and you need a good reminder to be careful next time." 

He let Ray up. He wiped at the tears on his face with his knuckles, then burrowed into Walter's embrace when he opened his arms for him. 

"There, there," Walter murmured. "You're all right. By lunchtime, you won't even be able to feel it." 

Ray mumbled something against Walter's shoulder; Walter caught the word _paddle_ and not much else. He kissed his temple. 

"You're all right," he said again, and Ray relaxed a little. 

***

The rest of the day went as smoothly as police work ever did. They drove home together as they always did, and Walter let Ray put the dog out before taking him to the bedroom for the second half of his punishment. 

Walter sat on the bed, spreading his legs to make a good base for Ray and sitting back far enough that Ray could be supported by the mattress, too. "Get out that hickory paddle and bring it here to me." 

He saw Ray's shoulders relax some. He was sure it was because, of the five paddles in the house, the hickory was easily the least scary. Hickory was a dense, heavy wood, but the paddle's blade was only six inches long, making it about the size of the hairbrush Walter kept around for the same reason. The experience wasn't too different, except the paddle was heavier and hurt a bit more. The other four paddles—the big birch school paddle with the 18-inch blade, the lexan paddle with the 12-inch blade and holes, the foot-long cherry paddle Walter had made himself out in the garage, and the chunky 10-inch leather paddle with studs—were hung side-by-side on a piece of pegboard in the back of the closet, but the hickory paddle was in the bottom drawer of the bedside table with the hairbrush. Ray fetched it, then gingerly held it out for Walter. He took it, then patted his lap. 

Ray took in a deep breath, then released it slowly, as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, then pushed them and his boxer briefs down past his knees. He bent over Walter's lap, and Walter helped position him so his torso was on the bed and his toes were barely touching the floor, his legs held in place by one of Walter's. He was breathing a little shallowly, but that was going to get worse before it got better. 

Walter rubbed the smooth blade of the paddle over Ray's naked backside, propped up on his knee: a perfect target. Ray choked out his breath. 

Walter spoke in a soothing voice. "Tell me why you're getting paddled, Ray." 

It took him a minute. "Because I was reckless and careless, and I put myself in danger for no good reason." 

"That's right. This spanking is a punishment for that bad behavior, but it's also a reminder to be more careful in the future. And I hope you know it's also a love letter. Every time this paddle smacks down on your bottom, it's a testament to how I love you too much to stand losing you. Do you understand me, boy?"

Ray's voice came out a whisper. "Yes, sir. I love you, too."

"I know you do. And I know you're going to show me by being a good boy while I'm spanking you."

Ray nodded. For a moment, Walter rubbed his back with his free hand, and then he used that hand to hold Ray in place. He raised the paddle, and then smacked it down on Ray's naked ass, hard. 

Ray jerked over Walter's knee. "Aaah!"

Walter held him down and started a strong, even tempo, slapping the paddle down in a well-dispersed pattern so that every inch of Ray's backside, from the crest to mid-thigh, received attention. Ray's body was tense as he tried to hold still for his punishment—as he usually did—but after not too long, his legs started to tremble, and he clenched the bedclothes in a white-knuckled grip, trying to stand it. He was crying out almost every time the paddle smacked him, now, and Walter could hear the shaky breathing that meant tears were soon to come. His butt had passed pink and gone on to red, and the fleshy part of his buttocks where he rested his weight when he sat was getting a little purple as bruising set in. He was almost ready; he'd almost learned his lesson. 

Ray bowed his head almost to the mattress, and his shoulders shook, which Walter knew meant he was crying. He slowed the spanks, meting out only three or four a minute. 

"I'm s-sorry," Ray whimpered. "I need to take better care of myself. And Walter, I—you're always thinking of me. It's not that I don't think of you when I do these things, it's just—it's just that I don't _think_ , and it doesn't mean—it doesn't mean that I don't care about you, because I _do_ , more than—more than I've ever—"

By this time, Ray was crying too hard to continue his thought. Walter put down the paddle, and he rubbed Ray's back the way he liked, like rubbing down a horse. Gradually, he started to calm, and Walter helped him up off his lap and onto the bed, flat on his belly. 

"That's enough, don't you think?" he asked. 

Ray was still crying, but they were quiet, slow tears. "Yes." 

"Did you learn your lesson, _wótheȟila_?" 

"Yes, _hasáŋni_." 

Walter bent down to kiss him. "You stay here and rest. I'll get some cream for your backside, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Walter went to the bathroom to fetch the cream he used to soothe Ray's well-spanked behind. He turned to go back to him, but got caught in the doorway looking at him all laid out and lovely. He was a handful, sometimes, Ray, and sometimes Walter swore he took years off his life, but he'd never loved anyone so much in his whole life, warts and all.  



End file.
